


But I Just Can't Have You

by celeste9



Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M, Prostitution, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen acquires a client that he can't quite seem to manage to keep thinking of as a client.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I Just Can't Have You

**Author's Note:**

> For 'hooker au' on my Primeval Denial bingo card and 'forbidden fruit' on my Trope Bingo Card. With thanks to fredbassett for prompting and fififolle for beta. Title is from Green Day's Stray Heart.

Objectively speaking, Stephen knew he was nice to look at. He didn’t particularly like drawing attention to himself, but he knew he was a good-looking bloke. He’d certainly never had trouble getting dates.

So when he needed to pay his way through university, it seemed only logical to take advantage of his assets.

Or so he told himself.

-

It was an ordinary house, Georgian by the look of it. Stephen wasn’t always asked to people’s houses - often he was directed to hotel rooms. He didn’t ask questions; he assumed usually the men who asked him to hotels were cheating on their partners or otherwise didn’t want to be caught with a prostitute. Or, didn’t want to be caught with a man at all.

The man who answered Stephen’s knock was older than him, with sandy hair that clearly never did as directed and a slight softness about his middle. Good-looking enough, not that it mattered.

“Nick Cutter?” Stephen asked.

“Aye, that’s me,” the man answered in a Scottish brogue. “You must be Stephen. You look even better than your picture.” His light skin flushed and he rubbed a hand through his hair, mussing it into even more disarray.

Stephen smiled in the way he’d had a lot of practice at. “Shall I come in?”

“Be a bit silly if you didn’t,” Nick said, making way.

The interior of the property was… full of personality. It was cluttered and unkempt, knick-knacks everywhere, generally in need of a thorough dusting. The shelves were packed with books and journals that made Stephen wonder if the man was an academic. At the very least, Nick had a healthy curiosity and wide-ranging interests.

Stephen sauntered his way into what looked like the living room, an entirely unpretentious space with mismatched furniture. There was a long leather sofa and a well-loved red leather armchair. The walls had been stripped, as though Nick was in the process of redecorating.

“Sorry about the mess,” Nick said, scratching the back of his head. “I meant to repaint the walls but then my--” He paused uncomfortably.

“Don’t worry about it,” Stephen said, going for reassuring and nonjudgmental.

“Beer?”

“If you’re offering.”

Nick escaped to the kitchen, taking longer than what was probably necessary. Stephen took the opportunity to make himself comfortable, sprawling out on the sofa. He spread his legs invitingly and stretched his arms over the back.

When Nick returned, he swallowed visibly, then handed Stephen an open beer.He gulped his own.

Stephen drank his more slowly. Nick seemed like a nice enough bloke but Stephen knew better than to ever let a client get him drunk. The agency vetted everyone but it still wasn’t a terribly good idea to let your senses slip.

He patted the sofa cushion next to him. “Come and sit by me, Nick.”

After a slight hesitation, Nick did so. His body was tight with tension and he held himself carefully away from Stephen.

Stephen set his hand on Nick’s leg and rubbed softly and soothingly. “First time?”

Nick’s lips curved into a tiny, nervous smile. “That obvious?”

“A little.”

“It’s just…” Nick’s gaze fluttered away and then back again. “My wife left me. She… It hadn’t been happy for a long while.”

Stephen turned to face Nick more fully, stroking his hand up Nick’s neck. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m better off without her. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.”

“She didn’t deserve you,” Stephen said, meant like reassurance but he somehow truly meant it. He had only just met the man but Stephen felt like… Like Nick was someone he would want to know, someone who could be important if they’d met another way. It was strange.

Nick’s blue eyes were trained on Stephen’s face. “You don’t even know me.”

“Maybe not. But if she left you, if she didn’t make you happy, well…” Stephen shrugged. “Clearly she was a bitch and she didn’t deserve you.”

Nick snorted. “Is that part of the package? A pep talk?”

“No,” Stephen said, stroking his fingers through the hair at the nape of Nick’s neck. “That bit’s free.”

“Thanks for saying it,” Nick said, sounding a little breathless.

“Shall we get on?” Stephen suggested, kissing a trail up the side of Nick’s face.

Nick’s fingers clutched into the front of Stephen’s shirt. “Oh God, yes.”

-

Nick asked for Stephen again the following week, and the next. Stephen was generally fond of his regulars - he was requested enough that he had a lot of freedom to turn clients down. Nick, though… Stephen found that he actually looked forward to seeing Nick.

He knew that was wrong. It didn’t do to get attached. It was unprofessional and the agency would likely tell him to stop seeing Nick if they knew.

He couldn’t help it. There was something about Nick Cutter that Stephen couldn’t resist, no matter how often he told himself it was wrong.

-

“What made you start doing this?” Nick asked one evening, his head resting against Stephen’s shoulder.

“What, become a prostitute? You can say it, you know,” Stephen said teasingly.

“Yes, that.”

Stephen laughed at Nick’s continued avoidance. “The money, what else? I have to pay my way through university and there isn’t any job I could take where I’d get a bigger paycheck.”

“You don’t find it difficult? To let men use you for what they want?”

“Not really. I’m using them, too. We’re all getting what we want. That’s the point, isn’t it?”

“So it’s just business.”

“What did you think it was?”

Stephen could feel Nick’s shrug. “Dunno.”

“Nick.” Stephen shifted, wanting to get a look at Nick’s face. “What do you think this is?”

Nick avoided making eye contact. “Nothing. I think I pay you for your time.”

“Right,” Stephen said, his scalp practically itching with discomfort. He wasn’t certain he believed Nick’s answer, but he didn’t know if that was only wishful thinking, that he wasn’t alone in his inappropriate feelings. Sometimes when Nick looked at him he thought -

But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t supposed to be.

Nick was right. He paid Stephen for his time and that was it. _Nothing._ They were _nothing._

Stephen knew that if he couldn’t stop thinking about Nick, he should refuse to see him.

He knew he never would.

-

Nick opened the door looking as agitated as he’d sounded on the phone. It had been a last minute appointment that Stephen knew he should have refused. Instead, he’d found himself cancelling on someone else so he could see Nick, who’d sounded so desperately in need.

Stephen told himself there wasn’t anything wrong with that.

When he got there, he was glad he’d done it. Nick clearly needed to not be alone.

He kept quiet, waiting for Nick to open up about what was wrong. It didn’t take long.

Nick offered Stephen a drink (he declined) then poured himself a whiskey and drained it down. “She had an affair.”

Not needing to ask who Nick meant, Stephen just waited for Nick to continue.

“Or anyway, she had at least one. I always had my suspicions but it’s-- it’s different having proof.” Nick took a shuddering breath. “She slept with a student.”

“I’m so sorry, Nick,” Stephen said, for lack of anything better to say.

Regardless, Nick didn’t seem to need Stephen to say anything. He probably just needed a willing ear. “I was so stupid! When I think of how I... and all the time she was out... And fuck, a _student!”_

He went on in that fashion for a while, venting. The whiskey bottle grew steadily emptier. Finally he seemed to sort of... deflate.

Stephen put his arms around Nick and rubbed his back, letting Nick sag against him. He manoeuvred them over to the brown leather sofa, not minding when Nick essentially collapsed on top of him. He didn’t mind it either when Nick fell asleep, mouth slightly open, snoring.

It certainly wasn’t the sort of house call Stephen generally found himself making, but he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather be doing.

He wondered if the reason he cared about Nick so much was precisely because he shouldn’t.

-

“Sorry about last time,” Nick said, fidgeting, the next time Stephen saw him. “I know that isn’t what you were expecting.”

Stephen shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s your money; you get what you want.”

Nick’s face seemed to close off a little and Stephen felt terrible. That wasn’t what he’d wanted to say, at all. He’d wanted to say that he hadn’t minded because he’d known that Nick only needed someone to be there, someone to care, and Stephen cared so, so much.

Stephen cared too much and he could never say so.

He let Nick fuck him in the cluttered bedroom where Nick used to sleep with his wife and all Stephen could think was, _shit, I think I might love you._

-

“I’ve been thinking.”

When Nick didn’t elaborate, Stephen nudged him gently in the side and said, “You’ve been thinking what?”

“Maybe I should, you know. See someone.” Nick was looking deliberately away, his gaze fixed somewhere on the stripped wall.

Stephen felt a little bit like someone was digging their fingers into his chest. “See someone?”

“Yeah. I guess maybe it’s time to move on. Helen clearly did, long before she left me. I should do the same.”

If Stephen had been doing his job properly, he would have agreed immediately. He would have spun some crap about Nick deserving some happiness and tied it all back into this thing with Stephen so he wouldn’t end up one regular short. If Stephen had been Nick’s friend, he would have jumped at the opportunity to be supportive.

Instead, Stephen said, “Have you met someone?”

Nick shook his head. “Well, no. But I could.”

The relief Stephen felt probably meant he was a horrible person. “Aren’t I enough for you any more?” he asked, trying to make it light-hearted and joking but probably failing.

“Well,” Nick said, something sad in his blue eyes. “I’m not yours, am I, Stephen? When you leave my bed you just go into someone else’s.”

“I could stop,” Stephen found himself blurting out. Oh, Christ.

Nick’s eyes widened comically. “What?”

“I’d stop for you,” Stephen said, because it was too late now and he didn’t think he could stop talking if he tried. That wasn’t a sensation that happened to him terribly often. “If it was what you wanted. God, I’d do whatever you wanted, Nick, if only you asked me.”

“You...” Nick swallowed heavily. “You would?”

“I would.” Stephen turned sideways on the sofa, touching his fingertips lightly to Nick’s knee. “Nick, I’m not supposed to want this, to want you, the way that I do. But I do.”

“But I... I’m... Stephen, I’m just...” Nick waved his hand vaguely in the air, gesturing to himself. “I’m me, and you’re, well, you’re _you._ You’re bloody gorgeous.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Stephen said, nearly smiling, “but you’re really not so bad yourself.”

Nick looked anxious rather than appeased. “How do I know you’re not just saying all of this? Maybe you say the same thing to all of your clients. I know I’m not special to you.”

“You’re wrong,” Stephen said, staring straight into Nick’s eyes. “I would never say that if I didn’t mean it and you are more important to me than any fucking client I’ve ever had. I’m not supposed to care, Nick, that’s the point. But I care about you.”

“I care about you, too.”

The fingers weren’t digging at Stephen’s heart any more. Instead he felt lighter than he had in a long, long time. “Do you?”

“Let me take you to dinner, Stephen.” Nick flashed him a brilliant smile. “You can pay for yourself.”

Stephen returned the grin. “I can live with that.”

**_End_ **


End file.
